


song of the heart

by OnyxSphinx



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Female Newton Geiszler/Female Hermann Gottlieb, mostly emotions honestly, this was titled 'homoerotic scifi nation RISE' in my drafts so. yeah.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:35:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27999873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphinx/pseuds/OnyxSphinx
Summary: or: Newt and Hermann almost get it on, but wind up talking about feelings instead
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	song of the heart

**Author's Note:**

> this is probably the closest i'll get to writing smut. enjoy.

Hermann kisses her; lips chapped and dry against hers; angrily, almost; fingers dig into the meat of Newt’s jaw bruisingly hard.

Newt gasps; a small whimper, swallowed instantly by Hermann’s greedy lips; teeth nipping at the soft of hers. 

Newt’s fingers, involuntarily, scramble for purchase; hook themselves into the fabric of Hermann’s collar; pulling herself closer; closer, shaking at the sensation as the other kisses her, hot and heady; dirty.

“Hermann,” she hisses, urgently; barely able to get the other’s name out.

Hermann pulls back a fraction; just enough that Newt can still feel the heat of her breath; the way her gaze, pupils blown wide, track the bob of her throat. When she speaks, her voice is low and rough. “Is this alright?”

“Y—yeah,” Newt manages; teeth grit to stop from crying out at the sensation of Hermann’s other hand brushing the exposed skin where her shirt’s rucked up. “Keep—keep going. Please.” 

Hermann hums; stills, for a moment; gaze dark. “How long have you wanted this?” she asks; suddenly, fingers lifting to drag, feather-light, across Newt’s skin.

She breathes shakily; goosebumps breaking out in the wake of Hermann’s touch. “A—long time,” she says—whispers, more, and keens quietly when Hermann pulls back; fingers dropping to cloth. “Fuck,” she whines; arches against the other.

Hermann smiles. “Eventually,” she agrees; smoothing down the wrinkles of Newt’s button-down. Newt shudders.

“I don’t think I’m gonna be able to stand,” she chokes out; knees weak already.

Hermann hums. “Bed,” she says, decisively; trails her hand down Newt’s cheek to lift her chin. “Yes?”

“Yeah,” Newt bites out; clings tightly to the other as she adjusts her grip on her cane; other arm hooked beneath Newt’s; steers them down the hall to Hermann’s quarters, and that—  
Newt draws in a shallow breath and follows Hermann in. Hermann pulls away for a moment; Newt reaches out to brace herself against the wall, feeling the heat of Hermann’s gaze rake over her.

“S—so,” she squeaks; almost, voice cracking.

“Lay down,” Hermann says; calmly; sets her cane up against the desk. “Don’t be shy; I don’t bite—yet.”

Newt licks her lips; feels, suddenly, like perhaps, for once, she has underestimated the situation. “Okay,” she says, “anything, uh, specific?”

“No, just lay down,” Hermann instructs.

Newt does; more carefully than she possibly ever has before; careful not to wrinkle the sheets as best as she can; lays, still, as Hermann moves the desk chair over to the side of the bed. “What, not gonna join the fun?” she quips, swallowing drily at the way Hermann settles herself into the chair; legs spread wide, leaning forward over Newt; eyes so dark they may as well be black.

“There are many ways to have fun,” she says; voice deeper and more quiet—more intimate—than Newt has ever heard. “Observe.”

And with that, she reaches forward; slips two fingers under the knot of Newt’s tie and gives a tug; gaze never wavering from Newt’s. 

Newt’s breath stutters to a halt for a moment, and Hermann tugs once more, the black fabric unspooling out of its knot. She pulls it off; drops it on the floor; fingers trailing up over the soft hollow if Newt’s throat and up over her cheek; drags her thumb over Newt’a lips.  
“Hermann—“ she whimpers; arching up to try and get closer, but Hermann’s other hand settles on her chest; forces her back against the mattress.

“Not yet,” she says; “be patient, darling.”

“Ng,” Newt whines, but falls back and tries not to fidget too much as Hermann moves onto the buttons of her shirt; rocking up, involuntarily, each time Hermann’s fingers brush her skin.  
Hermann takes her time; of course she does; but finally, the last button has been opened up, and Newt thinks, Finally—

And Hermann’s fingers, feather-light, trail across the skin of her abdomen; barely there, but Newt shudders like she’s been shocked with a live wire; blinking rapidly, gaze swimming out of focus for a moment.

Slowly—torturously slowly—Hermann pulls her shirt open; drags the fabric down and over Newt’s shoulders; runs her hands over Newt’s skin.

Newt jerks, involuntarily, whining as Hermann’s nails scrape just above her hip. “Hermann,” she mewls; reaches to try and clasp the other’s hands, only for Hermann to pin her wrists against the mattress, leaning over her.

“Ah ah ah,” she admonishes; “stay still, please, love. I don’t want to hurry it.”  
“I—I’m not sure how m—much longer I can stand it,” Newt bites, voice strained. “Hermann, dude, I need to touch you—“

“Soon,” Hermann promises; gaze locking, heavily, with Newt’s. “Patience, dearest.”

“ A—alright—" Newt gasps; fingers digging into the mattress as Hermann kisses a line up the soft swell of her abdomen and up her chest. “Fuck!” she yelps, a shudder wracking her as Hermann grazes teeth against sensitive skin. “Fuck fuck fuck—oh god, Hermann—"

Her hands jerk free of Hermann’s grasp; fly forward to drag Hermann up onto her; kisses her with frenzied fervour.

For a moment, Hermann scrambles; surprised and wrong-footed, but within seconds, she’s kissing back; cupping the back of Newt’s neck; drawing her closer.

When she pulls back, her breaths are laboured. “Come back,” Newt whines.

“Not yet,” Hermann replies. “Now please do try and hold still, Newton.”

“How am I supposed to do that when all I can think about is kissing you again?” Newt shoots back. “Isn’t it unfair you don’t get anything from it?”

Hermann stops; blinks at her, eyes dark. “Get nothing?” she repeats; slowly, like the thought is ridiculous. “Newton, you’re much mistaken—I quite enjoy pleasuring you.”

“C’mon, you can’t really tell me that you enjoy that," Newt argues. "Plus, I mean, don't you want to spend our time as efficiently as possible?"

The other’s hands still; stop brushing across her skin. Hermann frowns. “What are you on about?”

“It’s just a one-night thing—at least I should do you, too,” Newt explains. “I mean, you want to have fun, right? ‘Cause that can’t possibly be fun—for you to not get anything out of it, I mean.”

“Get anything—“ Hermann gapes; bewildered. “‘One night’—Newton, what on Earth are you talking about?”

“It’s just a quick fuck, right?” Newt says; staring right back. “Like—to blow off some steam? No strings attached, I swear—“

“Newton,” Hermann says, and then stops. “Newton,” she starts again, “is that what you think this is? Just—sex?”

“Uh,” Newt says, “Yeah? I mean, why else would you be kissing me?”

The other stares at her; silent, then: “Have you considered it’s because I want to? Because the depth and breadth of my emotions towards you are far more than a mere hormone-fuelled one-night escapade?”

When she finishes, her voice is trembling; her gaze, still locked with Newt’s, begs—something.

Newt swallows. “Oh,” she says; quietly.

“Yes,” Hermann says; “I was under the impression you were aware it was reciprocal.”

“No,” Newt mutters; gaze dropping from Hermann’s to skitter across the wall; fingers fidget.  
“Not, uh, really.”

“Newton,” Hermann sighs; softly; cups Newt’s cheek; stops, then; for a moment. “Well,” she says, “it is. And...” she hesitates; fingers stroking Newt’s cheek. “I’ve wanted this for quite a long time,” she admits, quietly. “I want to please you, Newton—that is what is enjoyable to me.”

Newt blinks at her. “...right,” she says after a moment. “You’re not just—?”

“No, Newton, I am not,” Hermann sighs; fondly, now, though, and resumes ghosting her fingers over Newt’s skin.

Newt exhales; a little shaky. “Okay,” she says. “But I want you to enjoy—“  
Hermann shakes her head; laughs, a little. “Newton,” she says, “I appreciate your concern—really, I do. But darling—it’s an unfounded worry.”

“Oh,” Newt says. “Okay.”

Hermann smiles at her. “I think perhaps we should leave the rest for tomorrow,” she suggests. “You’re looking rather tired.”

“I...” Newt tails off. “Yeah, maybe,” she says, grudgingly; because her eyes keep slipping shut. “Come lay down?”

“It is my bed,” Hermann points out; “Oh—of course.”

Newt smiles and crawls under the covers. Hermann follows, curling around her; breath hot on her neck.

“This’s nice,” Newt murmurs, eyes slipping shut. Hermann hums, drawing Newt in closer.

“Sleep,” she says.

The dark embraces her.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [autisticharrow](https://autisticharrow.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
